


What I Did on My Summer Vacation

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Series: A Bus to Somewhere [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Biting, Coming Untouched, Consensual Underage Sex, Creampie, Crying During Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Filth, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, Marking, No Angst, No Spoilers, Overstimulation, Post-Season/Series 02, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Smut, Unsafe Sex, Will Byers Is Seventeen Years Old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 05:19:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19717018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: The summer after Will turns seventeen is the first one Jonathan calls to say he can't make it home at all. Not one single day. A three-month trip to Europe with Nancy can't wait any longer, it seems.(AU pre-S3. No spoilers whatsoever.)





	What I Did on My Summer Vacation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trashcangimmick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/gifts).



> For the record, I was minding my own business when Taylor ambushed me. So this is trashcangimmick's fault entirely. Feel free to deliver all complaints to him, thanks.
> 
> [tumblr](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com)

The summer after Will turns seventeen is the first one Jonathan calls to say he can't make it home at all. Not one single day. A three-month trip to Europe with Nancy can't wait any longer, it seems.

Mom tries to make it up to him with fewer late shifts and a new band tee he's been eyeing for months, and Will appreciates it, don't get him wrong, but it's just not the same. Not when even Steve Harrington is back, and Will _knows_ Steve hates it here.

It's Lucas who mentions Billy Hargrove is back as well. Says he's spotted him picking Max up near The Hawk the day before, still driving the Camaro like a maniac. It gives Will pause, because Billy Hargrove hasn't been back since he graduated, not even for his dad's funeral, and Will doesn't know if that means trouble.

Turns out it means nothing much at all.

"He's really mellowed out," Max tells The Party behind Melvald's the next day. They're passing a cigarette back and forth.

"I'll believe that when I see it," Mike snarks, but Will's willing to believe it. Getting out of Hawkins can't be anything but good for a person, even when that person is an asshole douchebag like Billy Hargrove.

Max's mom is visiting Max's aunt over the weekend. That usually means getting high on the Mayfield couch. It's a cosy couch, and Max's weed is always primo. Mike and El bring the alcohol, just some shitty beer from a gas station three towns over, while Dustin and Lucas provide the bootleg entertainment. Will hangs out. They never ask him to bring anything, though he tries for his mom's leftovers as often as possible.

It seems to only occur to Max to mention Billy's in the house as she's rolling the second spliff of the night. Will's barely had more than a couple of tokes in the past hour, and his beer is only half-drunk. Which might be why he's the only one of the group who frowns at that information.

He glances at the stairs straight away, as if mentioning Billy's name will have him crashing into the room in an instant. He wants to ask why the Camaro's not out front, but that'd be a weird thing to bring up. He takes a pull of his beer and ignores the sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach.

They finish watching their movie, a shitty copy of _Cannibal Holocaust_ Will doesn't much get, though he's vaguely astounded to find he doesn't completely dislike, and then El's putting one of her records on, some early Led Zeppelin Will can _definitely_ appreciate.

Dustin gets up to use the bathroom first, which has Will's bladder telling him he needs to go, too. Isn't that always the way? He has to look for the second bathroom upstairs, but he's more sober than anything else, so he's grateful for the breather. His friends are great, but it's nice to take a break, take the edge off in a way pot and booze never can. Even if it's only for the length of time it takes to take a piss.

He's turning the bathroom lights off and turning around to head back downstairs when Billy Hargrove creeps into sight, a shadow at the end of the corridor, right at the edges of Will's eye.

"You got tall," is what Billy greets him with.

Will nearly jumps out of his skin. Billy lingers for a few moments in the shadows, then comes closer to the light by the head of the stairs. Will recovers enough to say, "Sorry. I didn't hear you there over the music."

"Yeah." Billy eyes him, gaze going up and down Will's body in a way that has his face heating up for no apparent reason. "Nice tee," he says. He's wearing a white wife beater and comfortable-looking jeans himself. His feet are bare on the Mayfields' clean carpet.

"Thanks?" Will glances at his own socked feet and back again.

"Don't mention it."

In the background, the tape changes to Metallica. Someone turns the volume up. Not loud enough to get the neighbours involved, but just enough to have it pound in Will's chest.

"What are you shitheads drinking downstairs anyway?" Billy asks, playing with his ring. Bringing his hand to his lips and biting his finger around it. Will's distracted for a moment.

"Beer?" he manages to say. Why is he phrasing everything like a question?

Billy nods. Seems to consider something, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "I've got whiskey in my room," he finally says.

Will swallows heavily. Then he nods.

*

It's fucking wild to be making out with Billy Hargrove on his bed while his friends are all downstairs. The music isn't even that fucking loud. They could get _caught_.

The one mouthful of cheap whiskey he got down still burns in his stomach. Has him a little giddy, though that might be Billy's tongue fucking his mouth. A better buzz than the alcohol. Will moans, a little filthy, a little too slutty. He's straddling Billy's hips and both their jeans are unbuttoned. This is fucking wild.

In the next instant Billy has him on his back on top of the covers, pushing his knees aside to crawl between his legs. His sheets smell clean, like fabric softener. It's uncanny. He has a hand on his stomach, underneath Will's shirt, pushing it aside to palm at his chest, at his pecs. Will doesn't have much to show for being seventeen, but Billy doesn't seem to mind. He flicks at Will's nipples with rough fingers and knees his way tighter against him. Dips to bite at his lips and tongue back inside.

If he'd ever considered _this_ with Billy Hargrove, he probably would have known it'd be a little rough. A lot filthy. Billy has both their shirts off in no time. He goes for a nip to Will's neck only briefly before sinking his teeth in the thin skin between Will's pecs to suck and bite. It has Will hissing with the sting of it, but it's good, it's fucking _good_.

Teeth sink into the sensitive skin below his belly button to leave faint marks, followed by little licks. He sucks the hardest yet at Will's left hip bone, and he doesn't stop even when Will sinks his fingers into blond curls and pulls, maybe to tell him to leave off, but maybe more to have him suck harder, leave a mark for real.

He does let go, but not before leaving a purpling bruise to show for it. Will pants and stares, and his cock twitches in his underwear at the sight of Billy between his legs, wet lips and eyes wild just for him.

When Billy pulls on his jeans he takes Will's underwear with them. Will helps him by kicking his legs. Then he's completely naked, stiff cock bubbling up with pre-come at the head. Billy stares him down, _looks_ at him as he twitches another pearl of pre, which instantly drips down into his pubic hair.

Filthy. Fucking filthy. _God._ He swallows around a mouthful of saliva, about to say something, break the tension, but Billy glances up just then, looks him right in the eyes. Licks his lips like he's starving.

They both scramble for the nightstand. The tub of Vaseline is barely full. Billy hasn't been home for more than a couple of days.

He leaves his jeans on to finger Will open. His thumb to start out with, then his middle and ring fingers together. Will's always tight, his own fingers thin and bony, barely enough to scratch the itch. There's been no one but him for over a year.

As it is, he should be asking for more than a couple of minutes of cursory fingering, but he finds his words getting stuck somewhere in his midsection each time he tries to come up with anything that isn't _fuck_ or _Billy_.

He knows for sure he should be asking for a condom. His mom raised him better than that. Fuck, he _knows_ better than that.

He doesn't ask, and Billy doesn't offer.

Billy's jeans stay on. Figures. He pulls himself out and slicks himself one-handed, the fingers of his other hand still pulling at Will's rim. Then he gets one slick hand on Will's hip, his grip tight, and presses the head of his cock to his hole, nothing hesitant about it. His cockhead pops in harshly, and Will could swear he gets the wind knocked out of him.

It stings. He hisses when Billy barely lingers to adjust his grip on his hip bone before pushing in to the root. Will moans, even though it's a full-on burn now, stretching him beyond his limits. He draws heavy breaths, almost hyperventilating.

His dick is hard, though, and he shudders around Billy's cock, his hole twitching around it, the contractions milking him. Billy hisses, licks at his lips through shallow pants, and then his hips pull back and roughly rock back in the next instant.

Will shudders. The rhythm is unrelenting. Rough. Too much. He moans at how perfect it is.

His legs twist around Billy's hips over his jeans, but he can't get enough leverage to fuck back. In the end, he lets him push into him over and over again. Billy's head buries itself into the side of his neck to lick and suck little shallow bruises, his hips working to have Will mewling and moaning pathetically on his cock.

He usually needs a hand, wet fingers, something, but this time he finds himself coming up his own chest from Billy's dick alone. But Billy's not done yet, and Will's sensitive within the first minute of coming. He gasps and shudders pitifully. It's beyond anything else he's had done to him. He blinks back tears, oversensitive. Too much. His cheeks are wet. Definitely too much. The aftershocks have his entire body trembling.

Then Billy thrusts once, twice more, finally pushing in roughly to shudder in the cradle of Will's hips. He pulls back almost straight away, his come slipping out, pooling beneath Will, who can't help but blush at the feel of it, red all down his face and chest.

There's barely enough room in Billy's bed for him to lie down next to Will, who's still panting, winded, so he ends up half on top of him. Somewhere in the distance the music changes from Metallica to the Scorpions. Over his chest, Billy leans over to grab his pack of smokes from the nightstand, lighting one within seconds.

His bedroom ceiling is a greyer white than the rest of the walls. Billy blows leisurely smoke rings towards it. In between drags of his cigarette, he nods his head forward and to the side to press his lips to Will's shoulder, his collarbone, the side of his face he can reach. Lingers interestedly at the side of his neck. He hums when Will tips his head back to give him better access.

It's only when he's ashed the first cigarette and lighting another does he say, "Good?" Not really a question.

Will snorts, but nods before taking a drag when Billy presses the filter to his lips.

"Yeah," he mutters. Doesn't try to hide the satisfaction in his voice.

"Good," Billy says. Self-satisfied.

It's going to be a long summer.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in under three hours. It probably shows. FML.


End file.
